Dear Maximillian
by somerdaye
Summary: If that is your real name. For Kathy.


**disclaimer;** Not mine. Not mine. Not miiiiiiiiiiiine. Sadly.

**notes;** This is completely silly. Just a quick thing, written at 2am, for my brain twin and fiance, Kathy. :D She prompted me to write a story in which a character, any character, writes a letter to his/her future self, and the future self responding. I'm sure she expected me to write Ouran - hell, **I** expected me to write Ouran - but I thought she'd enjoy this a tad more.

First attempt at a WoWP fic, hope I didn't completely butcher their characters.

Also - there's a cameo in here, a girl from another awesome show that some of you may know. Spot her if you can.

Enjoy. :D

**xx**

Dear Maximillian,

I'm gonna go ahead and assume that's what you're called, now. I mean, you're 35. You can't keep going around calling yourself _Max_, because that's childish and Alex says Maximillian's a very distinguished name.

Hi. It's me. Max. I'm sure you realised that, but maybe old age is catching up with you and you have that old-people disease where they forget stuff, the disease that Alex pretended to have last week to get out of doing the dishes. Dad wants me to point out that thirty-five ISN'T OLD or MIDDLE-AGED. (It totally is. Just saying.)

So, how's it goin'? Got a wife? She hot? Got kids? They annoying? You the wizard? I need to know these things, I do I do I do I do sooo badly. Too bad I have to wait 20 years to find out. SIGH, my life is so hard.

Despite that, life's pretty good. I have a girlfriend that doesn't think my name is Tom Sawyer. Of course, she also doesn't think I'm 15. (She's a JUNIOR, booyah!) Do you have to lie to your wife? I hope not, because you'll get all your stories mixed up with your old-person forgetfulness. I also have some good friends who may or may not be under the impression that Tony Hawk is my uncle.

Alex is good, but irritating, since won't stop blabbing about her new, COLLEGE-AGE boyfriend. Me and Justin were taking bets on how long it would take for Dad to pop a blood vessel. (Mom won. 2.8 seconds.)

Justin's at University now, studying the whatchamacallits and boringosity. He's got himself a nice, "normal" girl. At least, she seems normal FOR NOW, but for all we know she could collect diabetes or iron potatoes. (And even then, she'd be normaller than Juliet.) Is he still with her? Did Alex move in with them yet and corrupt their formerly perfect kids?

Are Mom and Dad still alive? I hope so. ...Actually, I hope I'M still alive, otherwise this letter is completely pointless and a little awkward. Unless you can read it from the afterlife, or you travel back in time to just before you died and pushed yourself out of the way, or you're a ghost. Let's move on before my brain explodes, shall we?

I just thought it'd be, y'know, cool to see what I was like - what I AM right now - and maybe it'll take you away from your boring life of running the sub shop (or your amazing, adventure-filled life of being a WIZARD!) for a few minutes and you can laugh about the good old times. Like when Justin's nosehairs got dyed pink and nobody could prove it was Alex. Or when Zeke tripped down the stairs trying to attack some celebrity-geek and broke his femur. Both of which happened this morning.

So, yeah. I'm happy. I hope you're happy. And alive. And not a zombie, oh God.

From the most amazing, epic, funtastic 15-year-old on the planet (and on others),

MAX

**xx**

Max,

I found your letter. I'm actually 36 and a half now, because I forgot about it completely. (No, I do not have Alzheimer's, that 'old-people' disease you're referring to.) And it definitely made me smile. Which is, you know, good.

It's going all right. I don't have a wife, I have a fiance - Lizzie McDonald. We've been engaged for over a decade, but we've never _actually_ gotten married. It might have something to do with the fact that her sister is crazier than ours, and that is saying something, my young self. She is, indeed, very hot. I have a daughter, whose name is Andi Rose, and yes, she's incredibly annoying when she wants to be. She'll be eleven in June. And, no, I'm not the wizard.

I know, I know, you must be so incredibly disappointed. But, really, we never had a chance. You knew that. I know that.

I remember that boyfriend of hers. Graham, wasn't it? Yeah, he stuck around for a few more years, with his motorcycle grease and large amounts of hair gel, but he ended up running off with Justin's goody-goody girlfriend at the time. Go figure.

Justin's got himself a _normal_ girl. And by _normal_, of course I mean _insanely powerful witch that could beat him up with one hand tied behind her back_. She drinks straight from the carton, which drives Justin mad, and she refuses to put on pants to answer the door, which has led to some awkward situations, and I think she'd definitely collect diabetes and iron potatoes if she could. (And yet, she's _still_ more normal than Juliet.)

Mom and Dad are definitely still alive and kicking. They've moved to Guadalajara and Dad sends many a postcard with cheesy sayings on them. And, obviously, _you're_ still alive, because you're me, and I'm you, and I'm definitely still alive because I'm no zombie or ghost-thing.

Thanks, you know, for taking me away from the dull, everyday hustle and bustle of my job as a TELEVISION PRODUCER. Yeah, that's right. Max the Magician turned into Maximillian, That Funny Guy Who Sold His Soul to Nickelodeon.

I remember that. Zeke's broken his femur at _least_ seven times since then. And Justin's nose hairs have been every color imaginable. Good times, indeed.

So, yeah. I'm happy. I'm glad I was happy. And alive. And not a zombie, oh good God.

From,

You.


End file.
